A flickering light danced on the trees,
Beneath the starry night,
Belonging to a wanderer’s fire,
A warm and comely sight.
Briefly joy returned to him,
Once huddled by the flame,
But frigid sorrow claimed his heart,
He wondered why he came.
The wind was sharp and cut him deep,
His cloth was steeped in mire,
The mind unable now to sleep,
Asked, “Will you fuel the fire?”
Preoccupied with pondering,
The man paid little heed,
He haplessly tossed upon the flame,
A paltry dried up reed.
The deference he once sought,
Beneath celestial skies,
Escaped him now entirely,
Satisfaction plagiarized.
“Something’s off. What is wrong?”
He abruptly self-inquired.
He stoked about haphazardly,
The neglected wispy fire.
Quietly the traveler fussed,
Pretending to be true,
The struggle raged within his soul,
The cause of which he knew.
He ventured oft away from home,
A pilgrimage of awe,
To marvel at the works on high,
And the miracles he saw.
Years had passed the traveler’s life,
And new things he aspired,
His tastes had changed, his feelings too,
His ideals now expired.
Unsettled by the guilty thoughts,
Emerging from his soul,
The wanderer shot back viciously,
“My heart is pure and whole!”
The cry rang hollow from his lips,
His brow had furrowed tight,
He could not shake the burden,
Though he tried with all his might.
Heartache seized him suddenly,
Midst thorned bush and briar,
Once again his mind implored,
“Will you fuel the fire?”
Determined now to sleep,
The man grew tired of the fight,
He would settle all his thoughts,
Then he’d turn in for the night.
He schemed of greater things,
Deeds both epic and heroic,
He’d concentrate his efforts,
Something grand, something stoic.
That would fix the problems,
Place him firm on the right track,
Through his talents and his prowess,
He would then get his life back.
His feelings only countered,
What he imagined in his head,
Not a feeling of encouragement,
Just emptiness instead.
Hopeless, hurt, and angry,
The traveler raised his eyes,
Screaming towards the heavens,
Cold silence filled with cries.
Unwilling to be beaten,
His rage grew even higher,
Furiously he kicked up dirt,
Upon the fledgling fire.
The coldness from within his heart,
Now touched his icy skin,
That fire sustaining through the night,
Crackled toward a feeble end.
The darkness that consumed his mind,
Would soon afflict his sight,
The demons of regret and fear
Unfeeling of his plight.
“I mustn’t let the light go out,
I’ll need that hallowed pyre.”
Responding to the threat he said,
“I have to fuel the fire!”
He rummaged
round the forest floor,
Gathering
kindle, branch, and log,
He stoked
and stirred the failing coals,
While petitioning
his God.
A flame took
hold of one dried branch,
Then
suddenly another,
He slowly
added more and more,
So careful
not to smother.
The
fledgling flame burned once again,
Though
smaller than desired,
A voice rang
sharply in his mind,
“Will you
fuel the fire?”
With the
crisis now averted,
The wanderer
then wept,
The memory
of his failures,
Wrought both
heartache and regret.
His own
faith had been weakened,
Convictions
were not kept,
His sins,
his pride, his selfishness,
Nearly
rendered him inept.
The struggle
broke and humbled him,
Atonement
his desire,
That voice
still clear, but softer now
“Will you
fuel the fire?”
His heart
felt heavy, his eyes were wet,
But now he
felt inspired,
He could see
clearer than before,
Though not
due to the fire.
The question
finally reached him,
His
understanding full,
The fire the
voice had referenced,
Was much
more personal.
The campfire
surely dwindled,
But its
warmth was not required,
T’was the
flame of faith which suffered,
And it
nearly had retired.
His faith
was near extinguished,
The many
choices he had made,
Had been
suffocating slowly,
The bright
flashes of faith’s flame.
Had his
choices been the wiser,
Had he
chosen what was right,
Joy would
not have left him,
If he kept
faith burning bright.
But faith
can be rekindled,
Such things
he now desired,
With sincere
declaration,
He said “I’ll
fuel the fire!”
